The Choosing
by Clare12
Summary: Join Nell Anderson as she battles everything from zombies to the great outdoors to her fellow survivors. Oh, what's that you say? Nell should do all of this the helping hand of everyone's favorite redneck? Wish granted. Note: This story will not follow Walking Dead plotlines, but will involve the elements of the t.v show that make it so compulsively watchable.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-So this is my first fanfiction story...and first attempt at creative writing in a long time! Let me know what you think! I will be throwing in a variety of twists and turns that don't have the much to do with the originial series. Hopefully this will be appealing to those of you who are tired of reading the same plot twists over and over. Also, if it looks like people are reading this regularly than i will update regularly. Even though that may just be something I do anyways..given how much fun I am having with it!**

**CHAPTER 1**

Nell was sitting on her hotel room floor, long auburn hair cascading down her face. Curled up in the corner, she was breathing shallowly, nervous hands repeatedly rubbing her forehead. Eyes closed, she breathed in the muggy Atlanta heat through her hotel window.

She had been trying to convince herself to leave her hotel room for the past three days, and it hadn't been working.

Rather than standing up, grabbing whatever belongings seemed practical and heading out the door, she had simply alternated her location in her hotel room, moving from her bed, to the bathroom, and ultimately to her current position, curled up with her back pressed into the hotel room corner, her eyes closed and her palms sweaty.

Anxiety.

Heart pounding, sweat inducing, mind numbing anxiety.

Never in her life had she been so scared. Never in her life had she felt this paralyzed.

She'd heard that in dangerous situations, the average person goes into flight or fight.

However Nell, it turned out, did neither. No, she froze, as wave after wave of terror washed over her. For three days now. _Weak. Pathetic. _

Removing her hand from her forehead, Nell put her left ear up the wall behind her, listening.

Silence.

Pausing briefly, she willed herself into a standing position, and then walked on soft feet to her window, closing it gently.

Silence.

Not the good kind either.

As Nell was already beginning to understand, there are two kinds of quiet, the kind you want and the kind you don't.

The kind you want is gentle. It takes you in and eases you into sleep. It is the quiet of security, of warm homes and locked doors.

The bad kind, the kind Nell was currently experiencing, was made of different stuff entirely.

It was, she reflected, just like the proverbial calm before the storm.

It made her walk softly, and caused her ears to strain, the silence like an invisible weight on the fair skin of her shoulders.

Moving faster, she traversed to the hotel room door, and placed her ear against it, brow furrowed as she listened intently.

Still nothing.

This was it. If there was ever a time to get out of this god forsaken hotel room, it was going to have to be _now. _

Nell moved quickly to her bed, her breathing still shallow as she tried to maintain control.

Standing over the cheap paisley comforter, she took quick stock of her luggage, and eyed the basic black backpack next to it. It was clear that only so much was going to fit into it, and that she was going to have to get smart about what she packed.

Muttering to herself, she unzipped her luggage and rapidly started going through it.

"Don't need tights, heels, this black skirt, this white button down..." She continued to shift around the contents of the bag.

"_Do need _ these shorts, this rain jacket, my hiking boots, hiking socks, my fleece, my hat, my first aid kit, my pocket knife, this map of the Blue Ridge Mountains, my compass, this granola bar...underwear..." Her voiced trailed off as she eyed her black backpack nervously.

The more she contemplated stuffing in there, the smaller it seemed.

She glanced down at the sheer white blouse she was wearing over a white tank top, and quickly moved her legs in her light blue skinny jeans. The pants flexed easily with her sudden movements and she decided they were comfortable enough for...she shuddered at the reality of what she was attempting.

It was absolutely insane-no _world changing-_ that she had just checked whether her pants were flexible enough for running. From dead people.

"Stop." She said it softly to herself out loud. "You think like that you are never leaving this room, and that won't end well."

With a heightened sense of urgency she began stuffing the belongings she had decided to keep into her backpack. Her thin hand lingered over the pocket knife, and in a rush of decision she left it out of the pack. Out of everything she was taking, it was the one most likely to see immediate use.

Desperate now in her anxiety, the silence of the hotel taunting her, she flung the pack on and strode to the door. Stopping, she gingerly placed both hands on its cheap wood and brought her eye against the peep hole.

Slumped against the opposing wall, a man had collapsed. His neck had been torn open, and a flap of weathered skin had exposed arteries now oozing blood, their initial cascade now a slow trickle. His t-shirt was stained a deep red, and his pudgy hand lay lifeless on the hallway's blue carpet.

But if her observations of the chaos leading up to her rapid retreat to her hotel room held true, he wouldn't be lifeless for much longer.

_It had to be now. _

She moved her hand to the cool metal of the door knob, and turned the handle.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Daryl was running, his long legs carrying him in an athletic lope down the dirt road that would ultimately end in his backyard.

Beads of sweat were running down his neck, and drifting into his eyes, their sting causing him to blink and rub them.

Going on an accidental long run in the Georgia summer heat was only partially responsible for the sweat plastering the sandy brown hair to his forehead.

The other responsible party would be Merle- probably drunk, definitely useless, and, if Daryl's prediction was accurate, passed out on the tired springs of their living room sofa.

_What else is new. It's just he's picked a fuckin' bad time to get wasted._

As frustrated as he was with his brother, the frustration was no match for the hard knot of fear that had taken residence in his stomach since he'd watched an old childhood buddy devour the town librarian.

And he didn't need that to happen to Merle.

So he was running, his fear and feet propelling him forward in equal measure.

The thing that got him was that he thought he knew what fear was. He thought he'd figured that out long ago when his father's fists would connect with his ribcage, face, and back.

It turns out childhood beatings and poverty hadn't prepared him for this.

Hell, drunken bar fights, a stint in prison, the skinning and gutting of animals, _goddamn Merle, _hadn't prepared him for _this _either.

_This _was currently in the process of turning his small backwoods town into a bloody, howling hell.

The dirt path he had been running down narrowed and trees started to close in around him, providing some shade against the sun. About 40 feet in front of him he saw the familiar dilapidated wood fence of their yard, one section downed and mingling with the yard's dirt and yellowed grass.

Sprinting now, he cut through it, the same entry he and Merle had been using for the past nine years.

As he ran onto the faded wood of their back porch he restrained the impulse to yell out his brother's name.

Skidding to a stop, he looked through the screen door, his senses heightening the same way they did when he was on a hunt.

Slowly, his hand fingering the long hunting knife at his side, he turned and scanned the area around him. He hadn't been followed, and the only thing stirring were the leaves of the trees in a soft breeze.

Bringing a dirty knuckle up to the faded white paint of the door's border, he gently rapped twice, and then listened.

He was waiting for the tell tale growling, the heavy shuffling gait of a walker.

Instead he heard the drunken grunt of Merle rapidly leaving his comatose state.

Opening the door he immediately began to implement the plan that had been forming since the outbreak.

"Merle, get up!" He shouted, striding into the living room. Picking up an old white t-shirt laying on the ground he threw it at his brother's head.

"You gotta a fuckin death wish? I said to get the fuck-" Daryl was cut off by Merle unfolding his large frame with surprising speed and ferocity, his body lunging at him with all the force of sleep denied.

"I _told you _to let me sleep if I been drinkin!" Merle was looking at him with red shot and bleary eyes, his massive frame supported by two swaying feet.

Anticipating a violent outburst, Daryl had found him easy to avoid, and was now leaning against the doorway, eyeing him cautiously.

"You noticed anythin' different about this town Merle?" Daryl asked, knowing that if Merle had been on a real bender this could turn into a very interesting conversation.

"No."

Daryl sighed, and brought his hand to his head, rubbing it back through his hair. Thinking quickly he decided that now was not the time to update his brother on the rapidly approaching demise of humanity.

"Merle, we'll catch up in the car, I'mma get our hunting and camping gear together."

Calmer now that he knew his brother was fine, he grimly started gathering their gear together, collecting much more than he would for their typical trip.

Within the hour all of their portable food, survival and hunting gear had been gathered by Daryl with the same methodical precision that had always characterized his actions beneath his volatile and gruff exterior.

Armed to the teeth, Daryl threw his crossbow on his back and hopped into their truck.

"Well Merle, it's time to get the fuck outta Dodge."


	3. Chapter 3

For the past month, Nell had had been learning the basic methods of survival in a profoundly altered world.

In those moments when she reflected on her altered existence, she felt as if she was in the process of being born again-and not in the Christian sense (thank god). No, she quite literally felt like an infant, except instead of her primary job being learning how to eat, walk and talk, hers was to evade the dead, manage her ever present fear, and keep moving.

When Nell had finally left her hotel room, she had managed to exit her hotel without running into any of the infected. To say that that was unexpected would have been putting it mildly.

In a stroke of pure luck she also managed to steal a car whose occupants had left bloody stains on their seats and their keys in the ignition, but were otherwise absent.

From there it had been one long dash out of Atlanta, the dead crawling through the city, around cars, _after her_.

They had been, at various points during her exodus, everywhere. It was as if over the course of 72 hours the entire population had died and come back a vast roiling sea of decaying flesh.

What they lacked in intelligence, they more than made up for in numbers. And persistence.

When she had finally made it past the Atlanta city limits, and had a moment to think past the next 30 seconds she had been faced with a decision: Should she locate a refugee center (if so, how?) somehow get back home to Bellingham, Washington to check on her family, or, should she do her best to get into the middle-of-nowhere, Georgia? (And therefore conveniently away from the hungry hordes of dead that had so terrified her in Atlanta).

Really, the choice had been a relatively easy one.

Middle-of-nowhere Georgia felt safest, especially when she realized that if Washington was as bad as Georgia, she probably didn't have a family to return to anyway.

And it was that decision which brought had her to where she was now.

_Yep, she was definitely in the middle of fucking nowhere._

Nell was standing hesitantly in a grove of trees, taking in an old farmhouse. It was late afternoon, the waning sun causing the trees to cast long shadows.

Prior to this, she had spent a week in another isolated home-stead, leaving only when she ran out of food. A couple of walkers had wandered through the yard, but she had stayed quiet and they had passed her by.

Silence and evasion had been her chosen survival technique thus far, and since she she was still breathing and didn't feel inclined to rip into human flesh, she figured it was working pretty good.

Slowly Nell turned around to make she she wasn't being followed. She could see nothing except groves of trees, a squirrel darting across a clearing, and the narrow dirt road she had driven down.

Walking quietly, she trailed her fingers across the metal chain link fence that had attracted her to this specific house in the first place. Following it now, she traced its perimeter around the house, and was relieved to see that it encircled it completely. Other than spots of rust, and the fact that it barely cleared her waist, it was in decent condition.

Moving with something bordering on excitement she opened the gate to the yard, her shoulders tensing at the unhappy squeak it caused.

Stealthily, she moved up to one of the windows. Standing on the tips of her toes, she was able to peer in.

Nothing moved.

Decided, Nell moved towards the door and slowly opened it, creeping into the hallway.

The house was dim, and had a slightly musty smell like old furniture. Glancing into the adjacent living room, her dark blue eyes took in the shabby furniture.

_Ah. The mystery of the musty old furniture smell has been solved. _

After a thorough search of the house, Nell was relieved to declare it safe. As she had done in her other shelters, she pushed furniture up against the front and back doors.

Then, exhaustion taking her, she collapsed her thin frame onto the living room floor, her long hair spreading out like fan around her.

She slept through the night for the first time since the outbreak.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl straightened up from his crouch, his ears quickening towards a rustling of leaves across from the small clearing he was in process of tracking a deer through. He furrowed his brow slightly, his blue eyes narrowing in concentration as the rustling and snapping of branches grew louder.

It didn't sound like a walker. It was moving with too much agency, and lacked the distinctive shuffling gait that marked the difference between the living and the dead.

_It ain't no deer, either _ he thought as he moved behind a grove of trees.

It was a hot day, and even in the shade provided by the forest, the sweat was already pouring down his body, causing his sleeveless shirt to stick to his back, and the dirt on his arms and face to smear and streak.

_I shoulda picked a different area to hunt in. This one's too damn close to those farms we passed back a ways. I'll tell Merle I don't wanna share a forest with anything that ain't a potential meal. I bet this bastards tracking the same damn deer I am. _

He leaned further into the grove of trees, blending into this surroundings with all the skill a life time in the woods had provided.

The cracking of branches, and the sounds of brush hitting skin grew louder and Daryl knew his intuition was correct. It looked like he was going to make his first acquaintance with a living human since the outbreak. _A loud human. _

He waited.

...

Nell blundered into the clearing, her breathing labored. Stopping, she allowed the sunlight to wash over her as she gave herself a moment to catch her breath. She looked back over her shoulder, taking in the trampled path her flight from the walker had caused.

She didn't think he-death-was still coming after her. Listening, all she could hear was the sounds of the forest, the very faint trickling of a distant stream. But, as she knew only too well, safety was temporary, and those that stayed put, well, they died. None the less her shaky legs were pleading for relief, so she wasn't heading anywhere for the moment.

Feeling calmer now she assessed herself. There was blood running down her right arm, the result of a tree branch she had been unable to avoid. Focusing on her body she ran a trembling hand over the red welts and throbbing areas-soon to be bruises-that were a physical reminder of what was her closest brush with death yet. _At least she hadn't bit bit. _

Her white tank top was wet and muddy from where she had tripped in swampy area of the forest, and would soon cake and flake off. The blue of her cut-off jean shorts were currently in a "which is dirtiest competition" with the fair skin of her legs.

Nell became aware of a throbbing pain in her left ankle, and noticed that it was starting to swell.

_Damn it, Damn it, Damn it! _

All of a sudden Nell felt a tingling at the nape of her neck, and she shivered involuntarily. She felt exposed. In the way all creatures have an ancient knowledge that lets them know when they are being watched, Nell felt rather than saw the pair of eyes taking her in. The palm of her hand tingled, her fingers itching to grab the gun.

With a growing sense of dread she realized that she wasn't being watched by a walker. Only a human would be self possessed enough to simply stare, hidden and dangerous.

The gun now clasped in her hand, her arm rising, she slowly turned around.

... ...

To say that he had been astonished by her entrance into the clearing would not have done justice to the level of shock Daryl had experienced when the burly-potentially dangerous-hunter he had been anticipating had turned out to be a slim young woman with long auburn hair and large blue eyes.

In retrospect it made more sense that anyone producing the level of noise she was wouldn't actually be a hunter, but still, what the _hell_ was _she_ doing in a forest, this far away from the homesteads they had passed earlier?

It was obvious to him that she was scared. Everything about her, from her muddy and bruised appearance, to the recent cut still bleeding on her arm, to the numb way she seemed to both take in her surroundings and the battered state of her body screamed _terror. _And given the way she kept looking back the way she had come, and the dark, thick, almost black blood on the small pocket knife she was carrying, he was pretty sure he knew what had caused it.

Aware that the cause of her terror could be close behind, he considered his options.

He could leave her here, wait for her to move on and then continue on with his hunt. He figured that Merle would be proud of that sort of decision making. And he sure as hell didn't need someone to take care of.

But even as he considered abandoning her, the guilt it caused sent his stomach sinking.

As he stood considering her, she straightened suddenly, the fatigued curve of her spine jumping to attention. It also did not escape his notice that her hand was simultaneously moving towards the handle of her gun.

She was onto him.

_Aw hell. _

Resigned, he stepped out from behind the grove of trees, his crossbow intentionally still on his back, his hunting knife hanging harmlessly at his side-his gun still tucked into the back of his faded jeans.


	5. Chapter 5

She was staring into a very fierce set of blue eyes, framed by sandy brown hair and high cheek bones.

The man was tall, his cut off plaid shirt revealing broad shoulders and muscular arms. At various places on his clothing, body and face, streaks of dirt had mixed with sweat. It gave him an animalistic, predatory quality. Or maybe that was just a result of his eyes and the physical presence conferred by size, strength, and weaponry.

As he stared back at her, Nell's feelings of disquiet grew. She couldn't read what he was thinking, and it was rapidly becoming clear that this man was not the wordy type.

"You okay?" His scowl had lifted somewhat, and he took a tentative step towards her.

When Nell didn't answer he raised an eyebrow, saying "I ain't gonna hurt you. You can put that gun away now."

Nell kept her arm raised, assessing him through narrowed eyes. Like hell she was lowering her gun. Plus, he didn't know that she had never held a gun before, much less pointed it at any one. _Ruthless. She had to come across as ruthless. _

"Why were you watching me? What are you doing here?" Nell's voice came out relatively steady, and for that she was grateful.

"I was trackin' a deer. Got tired of canned food. My brother and I have been wantin' some meat. I waited around to see who was causin' all the ruckus."

He eyed her speculatively.

"You?" He sounded amused. Or maybe that was just confusion.

"I have a map of the area...I thought that I could get to a lake that might have some trout. I knew it would be a hike but I was desperate for some fresh food..." She trailed off, her face now turned to the side.

"Everything was going to plan..I was staying on my compass bearing..until a couple of walkers ambushed me. I knew they could be in the forest, but I figured there wouldn't be that many of them because this area is so isolated." Her eyes narrowed in frustration as she looked at him directly. "Up until their attack, I'd managed to avoid them by going unseen. Unfortunately, that didn't work in the woods. They saw me and before I knew it one was on top of me. I-" A sob cut her off mid-sentence, causing Daryl to grimace and shift his feet uncomfortably.

"I killed him. I stuck my knife in his forehead."

Daryl was surprised that the tiny knife currently caked in dried walker blood was actually able to save her. She must have gotten up close and personal with the bastard.

"And his friend?" Daryl asked.

Glancing back over her shoulder as if the second walker could be strolling in at any minute, she muttered, "He's still out there."

"You bit? Scratched?" His eyes were focused on the cut on her arm.

Following his gaze she gently touched the cut and winced. "That's from a branch."

Daryl noted with a strange mixture of aggravation and amusement that she still had the gun pointed at him. At least it still had the safety on-a little fact that he was guessing she was unaware of.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Nell sounded annoyed.

"You gonna shoot me with that thing? Cause if you ain't you better just put it away."

Before Nell could answer, Daryl was shoving her behind him, the crossbow that had been on his back suddenly held securely in his hands, his muscles tensing.

Two walkers stumbled into views, their usually vacant eyes focused on their prey, their slow shuffling gait transforming into something far more rapid as blood lust overcame them.

"Stay back!" Daryl shouted, striding forward to meet them with an arrow already loaded into his crossbow.

The first one went down instantly, an arrow lodging between its eyes with a sickening splat. The second lunged forward, cold slimy hands reaching desperately for the two beating hearts before it.

Nell let out gasp of horror, the adrenaline coursing through her system giving her the strength to stand squarely on her sprained ankle as she raised her arm up ready to strike.

Daryl was already moving. Placing one hand on the walkers shoulder to prevent him from moving, the arrow that would have been loaded into the crossbow was now being used as a knife. He plunged it into the walker's forehead, grunting as bones cracked and inky blood oozed over the shaft of the arrow and down his hand.

Re-strengthening grip on the shaft of the arrow, he quickly pulled it out, pushing the walker away from him so it lay crumpled and finally lifeless at his feet.

He strode to where the other walker lay, and removed that arrow too. Wiping the arrows clean on the grass, and his bloodied hand on his pants, he glanced over to Nell.

She was eyeing him in shock, as if he had just sprouted a second head.

"You're good at that. At killing walkers."

"It ain't much different than killin' animals. I've done plenty of that."

"You're strong." The way she said it made what should have been a compliment sound vaguely suspicious.

Confused by her tone, he simply stood there in the clearing looking at her, dead walker bodies strewn behind him.

Nell stepped to move back from him, a gasp of pain escaping her lips as she started to stumble. "My ankle-" But Daryl was already there, catching her in strong arms.

"Damn it girl, what the hell you done to yourself?" His voice was gruff, and he was glaring down at her as if she'd done it on purpose.

Nell stared back at him, her heart thumping, uncomfortable with how close he was to her.

As if reading her mind Daryl lessened his hold on her, while still providing enough support so that she wouldn't topple over.

"_Listen, if I had wanted to hurt you I would have done it as soon as you blundered into the clearing like a fucking freight train."_

Seeing her eyes widen, Daryl regretted his choice of words.

Daryl began to speak again, "I-" but was cut off by Nell.

"I trust you."

Daryl felt something within him relax, as if a muscle he hadn't been aware of finally got to stop flexing.

"My name is Nell." She smiled shyly up at him, lingering reserve limiting the ease of her smile.

"Daryl."

Hardly believing he was offering, and knowing he would be getting an ear-load from his brother later for it, he said "My brother and I set up camp a few miles back, closer to town, if you wanna join us till you get healed up."

Feeling torn, Nell decided that she preferred the idea of four walls and a fence around her.

"Where I am staying is the most secure place I've found since the outbreak. It has a fence around it and is really off the beaten path. It still has food in it, plus farmhouses that aren't too far away that we could scout out."

Sighing internally, Daryl heard the implicit plea in her statement. _I'd really prefer to sleep with four walls and a fence. Would it be too much for you and your brother to move camp to the house I found?_

Shifting slightly so that his arm was now around her shoulder they began the walk back to his camp.

"We can move. Merle won't be too happy 'bout it though."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

After a mostly silent hike back, they found the campsite.

Merle was sitting on a log outside of their tent, his large, clumsy looking hands efficiently gutting a squirrel. A bucket by his foot contained the bloody guts and pelts of other misfortunate rodents.

Looking up he said, "Well, now I know why you were walkin' so fuckin loud."

Not stopping what he was doing, he finished gutting the squirrel, changing his process so that now he was skinning it.

"See you didn't manage to find a deer. Would say I was pissed, but what you got on yer arm now is too damn pretty."

He grinned, his small piggish eyes alight with glee and anger. With a plunk the squirrel pelt landed in the bucket at his feet.

"Unfortunately we don't need to take care of some cripple. Even if she's cute. Can't eat her after-all."

Daryl felt Nell stiffen and he fought to control the surge of annoyance Merle's comment's had brought on. _Here we go._

Daryl gestured to Nell that she sit down on a stump to her right, however she resisted his nod, continuing to stand warily on her good leg.

"Merle, this is Nell. She's stayin with us till she's healed up. She hurt her ankle running from a walker."

Merle was staring at the cut on her arm, his leer replaced with aggressive suspicion. He walked slowly over to her, slapping and rubbing his palms together as if they were dirty and he needed to shake them off.

Standing in front of her, he bent down till his face was inches from her own.

"You scratched blue eyes?"

"No. That cut is from a tree branch. I would have told Daryl if I was scratched."

"You understand, don't ya honey, that if that was from a walker, I'd have to kill ya?"

Nell's voice lowered slightly. "Yes."

"_Merle-" _Daryl knew he had to contain the situation before Nell bolted, which she was clearly in danger of doing, bad ankle be damned.

"Don't be a fuckin' jackass. She ain't bit."

"Also-" Daryl moved his hand across his forehead in preparation for the storm his next words were about to cause, "we're gonna go back to the farm she's been stayin' at. Her stuff is there and she says it's secure. Gotta fence."

"WHAT!" Merle's furious exclamation didn't leave any room for interpretation.

"Why the FUCK would we move our camp jus' for some dumb bitch! "

Daryl moved forward and grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling him into the woods and out of Nell's earshot.

Leaning in close to his brother he hissed, "You trying attract every damn walker in the area? Ya think you can keep it quiet, _brother?"_

"_You_ are pissed at _me _for _yelling?" _Merles voice had lowered dangerously, and he was now a mere inch from Daryl.

"I ain't the one bringing home a fuckin CRIPPLE! I ain't the fuckin softie that can't say 'no' just 'cause it's a fuckin woman! You think she _wants_ to be here with us?"

Taking a deep breath he continued. "That woman wouldn't waste _one second _on you before all this shit went down. Most likely she woulda crossed the fuckin' street before share the sidewalk with your redneck ass."

Daryl didn't doubt his brother's words, and he wasn't planning on babysitting her any longer than he had to, but also wasn't willing to abandon her. After everything they'd seen, and had to do, leaving the living alone and injured felt fundamentally wrong. Unfortunately, that was an argument that wouldn't fly with Merle.

So he simply re-stated what he had told Merle at the campsite. "She'll stay with us till she's healed up. She can't do nothing with her ankle. We _will _go back to the farm." Maybe if he kept saying it Merle was would just give in.

With a look of utter disgust, Merle spit at Daryl's feet, and turned around to walk back to camp.

"Whatever you say little brother."

Daryl followed behind him, the blood thundering in his ears. It wasn't often that he stood up to Merle. He was lucky he hadn't gotten a shiner out of it.

...

Nell warily watched Daryl's brother re-enter the campsite. He made her uncomfortable. _Merle._ That is was Daryl had called him. It was a stupid, redneck name for a stupid redneck man. Unfortunately, this man and Daryl were a package deal, so she was going to have get along with him. That or she was going to have to be alone again.

She shuddered. As dangerous as Merle was (and she had no doubt that he _was dangerous_), there was something comforting about sharing space with people again. It was only now, with living, breathing humans in view that she fully comprehended the huge weight of loneliness she had been surviving with before crossing paths with Daryl. She never wanted to feel that alone again.

She glanced over to him. He was looking up at the sky, frowning slightly.

Catching her looking at him he muttered "We're gonna have to pack up fast if we are gonna reach your farm by nightfall."

He eyed her quizzically. "You know how to get back to the farm from here?"

Stiffening slightly Nell felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "Yes, I know how to get back to the farm from here. We need to head South till we hit the road, then go left." The man clearly thought she was an idiot.

"Alright. Merle and I'll get our stuff loaded up. You can..." his voice trailed off and he ended up staring at her ankle.

"You can, uh, sit down. Or somethin'."

Feeling slightly numb at the fact that yes, he, Daryl Dixon, was currently going out of his way to accommodate this woman, he proceed to take down their tent. Glancing over at Merle he could tell he was thinking the same thing. Their eyes met, and the anger in Merle's glare shocked him. Daryl knew what he was thinking. _You're weak lil' brother. You act like this ain't a big deal. But I know that your choosin' a woman you hardly know over your own flesh and blood. _

Nell was watching the two brothers glare at each other. Daryl's jaw was clenched, and their was vein throbbing in Merle's temple. They looked close to blows. Daryl was the one who broke the stare first, turning to slam the now rolled up tent into their truck.

Grabbing the rest of their things together he turned towards Nell. "You ready to go?"

There was no warmth in his voice, and his eyes had gone cold.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

It had been an awkward car ride to the farm. Evening was falling and the tension between the two brothers hadn't relented. And Nell, unfortunately, had quite literally been right in the middle of it, sandwiched between them after declining Merle's gracious offer to "sit that sweet ass" on his lap.

The drive to the farm was only about 30 minutes, but for Nell, dwarfed by their size and with the length of her body pressed up against theirs, it had been profoundly uncomfortable. Worse, Merle had taken advantage of their proximity to press the side of his body against her own. She could feel his eyes on her, lingering on her collar bone, scanning down to where her tank-top curved with her breasts.

Fed up, she had suddenly turned her face up towards his, ready to tell him to knock it off. His eyes had met hers, and he'd slowly smiled.

"Something the matter girl?"

A flush had crept into her cheeks, its heat equal parts shame and fear. The knowing smirk, the heat of his thigh against her own, the sensitivity of her skin where his eyes had just been resting, it all made her feel dirty.

"_Stop." _She'd said it quietly, but had held his gaze. He'd grinned in return, before bringing a large hand down and slapping her on the thigh.

"Ah honey, you can't blame me. Been a while since I seen a woman like you." But then he'd turned to look out the window, humming a tune to himself, unfazed by a lone walker swaying in the tree line.

She'd turn to look at Daryl then, but he'd stoically continued to look straight ahead, refusing to return her glance. She'd wondered if he'd even heard her one word conversation with his brother, until she saw his hands clenched to the steering wheel. His knuckles where white, the lean muscle of his forearms taut.

When they'd arrived at the house the light of the day was succumbing to the deep purple of early evening, the intense heat of a few hours ago giving way to something gentler. Nell had been only too glad to exit the car. The brothers had done a rapid survey of the fence, noting weak spots, checking out clumps of trees that could hide unwelcome nocturnal visitors.

They'd then climbed the creaky wooden steps of the porch on surprisingly soft feet, and put their ears up against the worn paint of the front porch door, listening for the ominous sounds of movement.

Daryl had been the one to slowly push the door open and step inside with his crossbow held before him. Nell had watched him, peering around Merle's broad frame as they followed behind. He moved with care-but not with trepidation. He didn't seem to to have fear. Nell had wondered what that felt like, and if he'd always been that way.

After the brother's had satisfied themselves as to the safety of her hiding place, they'd rapidly transferred cans of food, water, weaponry, and sleeping bags from the truck, setting themselves up in opposing bedrooms on the second floor. Without including Nell in any deliberations, they'd announced that they would be taking turns on watch, one of them climbing out of an attic window to access the roof. Daryl had gruffly informed her that either he or Merle would be there every night, all night, the duration of their stay in that farmhouse.

Facing him in the dark hallway, leaning against the wall slightly to keep pressure off her ankle, she'd simply nodded, saying "That sounds wise." before entering into her own bedroom, locking the door with a metallic click.

**A/N-Ah, so this was kind of a filler chapter. Sorry. Let me know what you think so far! Reviews welcome. I know it is sort of slow moving..but I want to make sure there is character development. Is the pacing alright overall? I feel like a lot of these stories move really quickly. Don't worry though, for all of you craving zombie attacks and other drama, that WILL be happening soon (ish).**


End file.
